


We Fell from Afar

by TastesLikeCream



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: 5+1 Things, Alternate Universe - Always a Different Sex, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Alternate Universe - No One Ring, Amused Gandalf, Apples, Bilbo-centric, Cultural Differences, Cunnilingus, Dreams and Nightmares, F/F, Fell Winter, Female Bilbo, Femslash, Femslash Friday, First Kiss, Flower Crowns, Flowers, Galabo, Gandalf is a Troll, Gandalf ships this, Hair Braiding, I'm going down with my ship, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Language of Flowers, Mirkwood, Post-Battle of Five Armies, Rare Pairings, Rule 63, Sharing a Bed, Sneaky Gandalf, hand kissing, implied Fpreg, sharing food
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-23
Updated: 2015-01-23
Packaged: 2018-03-08 19:31:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3220748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TastesLikeCream/pseuds/TastesLikeCream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The woman’s gown seems to float around her as she runs, her feet light on the ground. Bella wonders for a moment if she’s just a figment of her imagination perhaps. But then the woman stops short, her feet barely making a sound on the dead leaves of the ground. Bella stops short, gaping at the sheer beauty of the lady in white. She reaches for her pocket and with shaky hands pulls out the apple, clearing her throat shyly as she holds it out to the woman. The woman doesn’t make any moves to accept it though she does smile to Bella’s relief, the corners of her lips turning up slowly until her eyes crinkle at the edge. Bella gasps at her rudeness and wipes the apple off on her shirt, not noticing how the lady’s smile only widens with her action. She holds the apple out and waits for the woman to move.</p><p>Or the five times that Bella found Lady Galadriel and the one time she found Bella.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Fell from Afar

The first time she sees the lady in white Bella doesn’t even know her name. She’s walking through the forest in an attempt to yet again find an elf when she knows that more than likely she will just return home. In her pocket Bella has an apple which she resists the urge to eat. It’s for the elf, if she finds one today she tells herself. When she finds an elf, she will hold out the apple and ask them what it’s like being a big person. And perhaps if she’s lucky the elf will allow her to walk with them and they will exchange tales. It’s with that thought that Bella sees the flash of white.

It’s not bright nor is it painful. But a gentle, soft light that seems to be coaxing her forward. Bella reaches for her pocket, the apple heavy there. And she swears that she hears a soft, fluttery sigh.

“Do you not like apples?” Bella calls and then hears that sigh again, this time turning into a laugh as the flash of white runs by her. Bella lets out a soft ‘oh’ and gives chase to the light. The more she runs the more the light fades until finally she can see the figure of a woman, tall and elegant. Flowing behind her is her hair, thick and golden with silver streaks that Bella longs to touch. Not to pull and tug on like some other fauntling might but to feel. And perhaps if she’s lucky enough the woman will allow her to braid flowers into it.

The woman’s gown seems to float around her as she runs, her feet light on the ground. Bella wonders for a moment if she’s just a figment of her imagination perhaps. But then the woman stops short, her feet barely making a sound on the dead leaves of the ground. Bella stops short, gaping at the sheer beauty of the lady in white. She reaches for her pocket and with shaky hands pulls out the apple, clearing her throat shyly as she holds it out to the woman. The woman doesn’t make any moves to accept it though she does smile to Bella’s relief, the corners of her lips turning up slowly until her eyes crinkle at the edge. Bella gasps at her rudeness and wipes the apple off on her shirt, not noticing how the lady’s smile only widens with her action. She holds the apple out and waits for the woman to move.

“Bella? Bella where are you?” At the sound of her father’s voice, Bella startles, dropping the apple as she turns around.

“I’m right here papa.” Bella calls and waits until he comes through the brush, bits of leaves and burrs clinging to his shirt.

“Luncheon is nearly ready.” And with that, he picks her up. Bella settles her chin on his shoulder, staring at the place where the lady in white stood moments ago, gone now; the apple gone with her.

* * *

 

The second time isn’t until the Fell Winter. Bella stares at her father’s grave and listens to the broken sounds of her mother’s sobbing. Around her relatives try to comfort one another, comfort her mother and promise it will be okay when really it will not be. It will never be okay ever again. Despite her family’s best efforts to play pretend and make things okay, Bella knows that this will never be okay. She slips away when someone suggests that they all go back to Bag End for afternoon tea. She has no desires to eat, no desires to drink. So she returns to the forest where she hunted elves and pretends that perhaps that she’s a child again.

But it’s a reality for her and her mother now she knows as she walks. With each step comes pain knowing that her father will not be here anymore. That with each passing day she will watch her mother fade a little more and more. Pain, because it’s not fair. Bella lets out a ragged sob and bites her lip when she feels the steady wind blowing in her face, biting at her skin. She opens her mouth, preparing to let out a curse at this winter when she sees the lady in white once again.

Unlike last time there is no smile on her face, no happiness or joy there in her eyes. Her face is turned down with an emotion that Bella cannot quite place as she stares at her. Her footsteps are quiet, careful as she crosses the space between them, kneeling down and pressing her forehead against Bella’s. The circlet adorning her forehead is cold, sending a chill down her spine but the lady herself is warm. Every part of her is warm and reminds Bella of spring: the pristine white dress, the golden hair and her blue eyes which stare at Bella intently.

“I’ve been waiting for you a long time Bella Baggins.” The woman says, her voice low and melodious. Bella bites her tongue, aware of how scratchy and raw her own voice is. But the lady seems to be waiting for her to talk so she forces the fear down.

“Funny, you’ve been waiting for me and I don’t even know your name.” The woman doesn’t seem bothered by the roughness of her voice as she smiles at Bella.

“I am Lady Galadriel.” Bella watches as the wind blows her hair back and she sees the pointed tip of her ear. The gasp leaves her lips before she can stop it.

“I’m sorry but I hardly see what an elf, especially one like you would want from me. Or why you would spend such a long time waiting for it.” Galadriel seems to only smile more and more with her voice.

“I will tell you everything in due time.” She promises and presses a kiss to Bella’s forehead. And just like all those years ago, she disappears once more, leaving an apple behind.

* * *

 

 

It’s while dwarves invade Bag End that Bella brings up Galadriel to Gandalf. The wizard doesn’t look at all surprised at the name, merely smiling around his pipe as he winks at her.

“Gandalf, she told me a long time ago that she would explain everything in due time. And I want to know: does due time mean this? When dwarves are raiding my pantry? Is she in on this all?” Bella practically screeches, stomping her foot on the ground.

“Oh, no my dear Bella. This is all my doing. And it does not surprise me in the least that Lady Galadriel has been visiting you. I cannot explain everything as I do not know everything about this world nor do I know everything about her. The Lady Galadriel knows about things sometimes before they happen, a very powerful woman she is. And when the time comes you must trust that she will tell you everything.” This does little to comfort Bella who’s thoroughly had it with the dwarves by the nights end. She stomps outside, plopping down on her bench with her pipe in her mouth. Somehow it is not surprising when she hears the soft, fluttery sigh when she lights her pipe.

“I know you’re there. Come and sit with me please.” And sure enough Galadriel emerges from her garden, a small smile on her lips as she sits down by Bella.

“I understand that you had a word with Mithrandir. Tell me Bella Baggins, do you not enjoy the company of dwarves?” There’s amusement coloring her voice and Bella puffs on her pipe, annoyed. Galadriel merely chuckles and settles her slender fingers into Bella’s hair.

“What are you doing?” Bella manages as the woman’s hands begin to comb through the knots and tangles missed by her. She doesn’t get a response, only the sound of soft humming and Bella allows herself to melt into the woman’s touch. Her hands are sure of themselves, working through unexpected knots and tangles that occupy her head until finally Bella’s allowed to sit up. When she reaches up to touch her head all she can let out is a soft ‘oh’ of surprise at the flowers braided there.

“You stole these from my garden.” Bella accuses halfheartedly and tries in vain to fight the heat rising to her cheeks as she lifts the strands with flowers woven in. She smiles at the Black Eyed Susan’s, the Gladiolus and the Hydrangeas. Though she frowns at the Jasmine and Hibiscus.

“I believe these would suit you better.” Bella says, her fingers grazing over the jasmine and hibiscus.

“Sometimes the one who chooses the flowers understands better than the one receiving them.” Galadriel says and grabs hold of her hands, lifting them palm up to her mouth.

If she receives stares for the flowers woven into her hair the next day, Bella doesn’t notice. Her mind is on the Lady Galadriel, on her promise: ‘you will not be alone on this quest. I’m here.’

* * *

 

The first to actually ask about the flowers is Balin and not surprisingly he approaches it as a cultural question. The others all lean in closer as he approaches her, his tone polite.

“Those flowers in your hair Miss Baggins, do they have any meaning?” Bella who’s puffing on her pipe blows a thoughtful smoke ring before answering.

“All flowers have meanings.” Bella says easily. Across from her Ori perks up at this, reaching for his journal.

“And what do those mean? Well what are they I should probably ask?” Bella fingers the jasmine, the hibiscus. Sometimes the one who chooses the flowers understands better than the one receiving them, the words echo in her head. These meanings stay with her as she explains the other flowers meanings. Gandalf watches it all with a smile on his face

It’s later after the fire has died down and the others are in their bedrolls that Thorin comes up behind her. Bella’s unbraiding her hair, her hands careful as she carefully presses them. She thinks nothing of the sound of approaching footsteps and continues her task until Thorin reaches past her, carefully lifting the jasmine.

“You did not explain the meaning of this one.” Bella fingers the hibiscus, the last remaining flower in her hair.

“I cannot explain that one. Flowers have different meanings depending on who is giving them to you, the nature of your relationship and many other things.” Thorin kneels down next to her, handing the jasmine over to her.

 “The person who gave me these flowers told me that sometimes the one who chooses the flowers understands better than the one receiving them.” Bella says and nods towards the beads adorning his hair.

“It’s like if someone wanted to court you and say perhaps you never imagined that person wanting to be with you. Or never felt worthy of being with them, sometimes they understand better than you: why they want to be with you and what exactly they see in you.” Thorin’s face is thoughtful as he nods and with a final nod, stands up. Bella slips into her bedroll, her curls smelling heavily of the flowers that she just removed. And despite the achy, sore muscles and saddle sores Bella feels happy as she falls asleep.

That night she dreams of a flower field, under the bright sun. Bella’s in the middle of it, searching for something though she’s unsure of what. When she hears the first giggle she follows it, practically floating through the field until she finds the one. It comes from a child with long, silvery blonde hair and leaf shaped ears, running towards something far away. The child is not alone, followed by a dark haired child who calls for them to wait up. Bella follows after them, listening to the laughter and teasing. Names are repeated over and over but she doesn’t hear them until finally she comes to a stop. The children are there, hugging Galadriel who’s smiling at her.

* * *

 

 

In Mirkwood her dreams are replaced by nightmares. With each little sound in the night her dreams of flowers become vines, wrapping themselves around her legs and threatening to pull her under. Bella claws at the ground, attempts to scream but a vine comes up, covering her mouth and silencing her. She’s not the only one she knows suffering from nightmares, suffering from the darkness of the forest. As she looks at the others she can see the exhaustion in their eyes.

Bella wants Bag End more than ever. She wants to be home, in her armchair and with her book. She wants to be home. But the journey isn’t over she knows. A dragon still lies ahead of them, one which Bella will have to face down. If she ever gets out of this forest she thinks to herself. If she’s honest with herself, more than anything, more than Bag End or her armchair or her books, she wants the dreams back.

The dreams; where she finds herself running alongside the children, laughter ringing throughout the field. The dreams; where those mystery children whose names she can never catch are always smiling at her. She wants the dreams just to return to her. For the children to tell her their names. She just wants to be rid of this foul place.

Tonight Bella cannot stop wandering. Dwalin sits up on watch, his grip on his axes tight and his jaw set as he glares at each flutter of movement. The rest of the company has long since fallen asleep, their snores lighter than usual. Bella though cannot sleep, her feet almost itching as she walks. Dwalin doesn’t even notice when she wanders away from the camp, the itchy feeling spreading from her feet to her hands. Bella flexes her fingers, palms sweating the closer and closer she comes to the light until finally there she is.

The first thing she does is run her hands along the fabric of the dress, inhaling the spring scent that is Galadriel. The other woman’s hands wander through her hair, down her face and resting above her thundering heart.

“I have missed you.” Bella whispers.

“You are not alone my dear hobbit.” Galadriel’s voice does little to reassure Bella who clings to her as though she might float away. She’s not alone she knows. Surrounded by the company and occasional of Galadriel. But it’s not the same. The spring scent is not as strong in her dreams, her dress not as pristine. Bella stares up at her now, relishing in the smile that makes her eyes crinkle at the edges.

“How is it that you remain so lovely even after being in this forest?” Bella asks and feels her heart give a stutter when she sees the flush coloring the woman’s cheeks. She kneels down, pressing their foreheads together and Bella sighs at the coolness of the circlet against her skin.

“You are lovely, my hobbit.” And presses an apple into her hands.

* * *

 

 

Bella lies on the worn mattress, her arms around her stomach. Every part of her aches, every part of her hurts. Outside of the tent she can hear the dwarves arguing, demanding to see her. They’re sorry she knows. And she’s sorry too. Bella will not be bitter about this; will not be angry about this. Forgiveness will come in time she knows. But forgetting it, Bella’s hands wander to her throat where Thorin’s handprints linger.

Thorin is alive and wants to see her. But the thought of seeing him right now, seeing any of the dwarves. Bella shudders and wraps her arms tighter around herself. Outside of the tent the dwarves go silent, Gandalf’s yelling ceases in favor of whispering and she hears the flaps of the tent being opened. Bella closes her eyes tighter, pulling her knees to her chest and waiting for what, she doesn’t know.

She most certainly doesn’t expect the bed to dip and find herself being pulled to Galadriel. Bella lets out a shuddering sigh that fans across the woman’s neck. Galadriel looks haggard: her eyes exhausted and her dress filthy, torn. Bella’s unsure of where to touch, where to let her hands rest and settles for being a blubbering, sobbing mess that traces her high cheekbones, her lips, nose and eyebrows.

“You need to eat.” Galadriel says and hands over an apple to Bella. She’s torn between huffing in annoyance and laughing. She huffs and takes a bit out of the apple then holds it out to Galadriel. The two lay together, sharing the apple back and forth until it’s nothing more than a core which Bella tosses onto the floor. At Galadriel’s raised brow Bella presses her face to the woman’s neck, shrugging.

“I may not have the best manners.” Bella mutters, shrugging. Galadriel doesn’t seem to mind her manners, choosing instead to brush back Bella’s curls and stare at the wound that now decorates her head. Her slender fingers are cool, her touch soothing as she runs them down Bella’s jawline.

“I’ve been having dreams: in a field of flowers there were these two children playing. I was playing with them too, running after them, to you.” Her breath becomes shuddery as a cool finger traces the tip of her pointed ear.

“It does not have to remain a dream.” The words are a whisper; the air of the tent cold. But her words are like a shout in Bella’s ears, the air suddenly too warm. Her goosebumps have been replaced with sweat: beading her forehead, running down her back. The silence of the tent is gone, exchanged for pants and gasps from Bella as she stares at the golden head between her legs. The stale scent of death is pushed out of the tent by the musky, heavy scent of sex which hangs heavy in the air long after.

Bella’s head lies against the naked skin of Galadriel, her face wet with drying tears. Woven into her hair is flowers.

**Author's Note:**

> Black eyed Susans: encouragement 
> 
> Gladiolus: strength of character 
> 
> Hydrangeas: perseverance 
> 
> Hibiscus: delicate beauty
> 
> Jasmine: grace and elegance 
> 
> I thought of this the other night and just, it's a pairing I didn't even know I needed it but now I'm dying for it. I am going down with this ship and know that I am not the only one. I was kind of unsure of what to write for them and gave myself a personal challenge.
> 
> If you have a complaint about the canon divergence or that Galadriel is Celeborn's wife, I don't want to hear it. Part of fanfiction is being able to explore relationships and creativity. Not for people to nitpick and complain about every single little detail. Just enjoy the work <3 
> 
> If you have any wants or suggestions on what you'd like to see for this couple please let me know. And I know that I haven't done any one shots for a while. I've been more focused on my main stories and wanting to get them on steady footing I guess you could say. I do take prompts even if it just takes me a while to get around to them sometimes :3


End file.
